


my worst enemy, my sweetest addiction

by IllyriatheSmurf7



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllyriatheSmurf7/pseuds/IllyriatheSmurf7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that she is standing in front of her, Clarke realizes what a fool she was to think that she could ever move on, that she could ever forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my worst enemy, my sweetest addiction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! So, this is my first story on this site ever, and I'm kinda nervous, but these two just wouldn't leave me alone, and I kept picturing scenes of their first time back face to face. So I started writing just for fun, and a quick one shot fleshed out more and more until it became this monster. Anyway, even if I'm a bit anxious, I really wanted to share my story and know what you think, so here it is. Hope you like it. If you check it out, maybe leave a review or a comment to let me know what you think. I would love to hear your opinion :) Enjoy!

Clarke jolts awake with a scream stuck in her throat. Her eyes open, but for the longest moment she is unsure of where she is: it's dark around her. The shadows dancing before her eyes resemble dark ghosts, come to torture her, to ask for justice. It's only when the crackling of the fire catches her attention that finally she comes back to awareness. She is still in the forest. She lets out a breath but there is no relief in that action. There is no relief, ever.

The moon is high and it is nowhere near morning yet, but she knows she won't go back to sleep. The fire next to her sleeping bag is not enough to keep her warm anymore, and the drops of cold sweat running down her neck make her shudder. She hates it because, just like the incessant thumping of her heart, it is a reminder. The physical consequence of the nightmare that forced her awake. What she first thought were ghosts, she now recognizes as the shadows of the trees around the clearing where she's resting. But the light from the fire is dim, and those shadows are still stifling and threatening. Anyone could be hiding there, she thinks, but her stomach churns when she realizes she's looking at this the wrong way. She's not the one who should be afraid of monsters lurking in the dark. She is the monster.

She rests her head against the log behind her and closes her eyes. Months has passed since the day she left Camp Jaha without looking back. She doesn't know how many, and it doesn't really matter to her, because she feels exactly the same. She achieved nothing with her self imposed exile. Thoughts, memories, images still haunt her. She sees burned faces in her sleep, children screaming in pain. This night it was Maya: sweet, brave Maya, who risked her life to help them and was repaid with an excruciating death. In Clarke's nightmare, she burns. The flesh on her face is melting while she is staring at her, but she doesn't scream. Instead, there is a small smile on her face, and the message is clear to Clarke. One day you will experience hell too, it's what you deserve.

Clarke quickly opens her eyes. Knowing it was just a nightmare doesn't help her, because she knows Maya is right. It's true, she deserves it.

Her gaze falls on her right hand, and her chest tightens thinking about how pathetic she is. It's healed by now, but the scars are still there, will always be there. To remind her of her failure and her cowardice. Her mind travels back to that day. To when, after another nightmare that brought her heart so close to exploding and left her gasping for air, that overwhelming need had risen inside of her. The need to understand, to feel. To feel what they felt. A need so intense and demanding it had made her push her hand into the fire.

She stares at that hand, at the horribly marred skin. Eleven seconds. She had lasted eleven seconds before giving up and violently ripping her hand out of the flames. It's still so vivid in her mind: the excruciating pain that seemed to have no end. The sickening smell of her burnt flesh. Her piercing screams and the moment they had turned into a desperate sobbing. The same thought from that day strikes her again as she recalls those events. They felt that same unbearable pain on their entire bodies. She condemned people who helped her, Maya, innocent children, to an atrocious death, and she doesn't even have the strength to bear some of that pain for more than a few seconds.

The fingers of her left hand ghost over the maimed skin, darkened and taut, and nausea rises inside of her. She is not disgusted by the sight, but she knows that she could walk into the fire, let it consume her until she is all but ashes, and it still wouldn't be enough to cleanse her of her sins. Because it's her soul that is dirty, and corrupted, and there is no coming back.

She can't have redemption, she can't have peace. Those are wishes she is not worthy of having anymore, forbidden. All she has left is guilt. And it is right this way. It's all she should have after the unspeakable crimes she committed. She shouldn't even try to relieve herself of that guilt, she knows it. This is what stopped her from crossing the gates of Polis two days ago. Whatever it was that she was hoping to find in the capital, she doesn't deserve it. Dante's words resonate in her mind, like they have done countless times in the past, whenever her will at taking her punishment has threatened to waver.

_I bear it so they don't have to._

Yes. She has to bear the guilt. Guilt that, she has come to realize, will stay with her forever, consuming and eroding all that's left inside of her, till she is nothing but a withering shadow. A soulless crippled body that wanders on the Ground, alone. Not worthy of life, but not worthy of death either.

Suddenly a noise reaches her ears. Not loud, almost imperceptible, but nonetheless she hears it. Her senses have heightened in the last months, as she has found herself having to improve her skills to be able to survive in solitude. The old Clarke wouldn't have even noticed it, but the person she has become knows the snapping of a twig she just heard is not ordinary. Her heartbeat starts quickening at the realization that there is someone in the woods.

Lying there, in her makeshift bed, she is exposed, so she shoots up and advances towards where the sound came from. There's no point in hiding or trying to run. She knows it's not an animal. Fire has always kept creatures away. No, Clarke knows it is a person hiding behind the trees. She doesn't know what their intentions might be, but she is not scared. There's not much that scares her in her life anymore, apart from herself.

She stops in the middle of the clearing. Her hold on the gun is steady as she raises her arms and points the weapon towards where the sound came from.

"I know you're there. Come out."

The only answer she gets is the deep silence of the night, interrupted only by the crackling of fire. She tries one more time, but again, the forest keeps quiet, trying to convince her that she imagined everything. That she has been alone for so long that she's becoming paranoid. And for a moment a part of her starts believing it, when she is proved wrong.

Because she sees movement in the shadows, until a figure hesitantly emerges from the trees, to stop right in front of her. And Clarke stops breathing.

She cannot move, and she is sure she can feel her heart stop beating in her chest. She has seen a lot in her life, and she has done an awful lot too. In her brief time on Earth she has seen and done things she would have never even believed possible when living on the Ark. Almost nothing can shock her anymore. But now, in this exact moment, she realizes that there is nothing further from truth. Because seeing those green eyes is enough to spread paralyzing shock through her entire body. Those eyes that glow every time the dim light from the fire hit them, almost like they don't belong to a human, but to a supernatural being. Those eyes that make her feel like she's lost into the darkest and most sacred corner of the forest. That make her feel like she has reached the deep, stormy waters of a sea she has only seen in her dreams, and like she is ready to abandon herself to them and sink into their depths. Those eyes that she wishes would only haunt her in her nightmares but keep appearing in her dreams.

"You..." It is the only thing Clarke can whisper in that moment. The shock is still too intense. She can't even bring herself to say her name, not yet. That name is linked to too much. Intimidation, fear, despair that turned slowly and suddenly into respect, understanding, trust. She still is not sure when the heat arrived. The ache in her chest, the slow burn in the pit of her belly, that unbelievably gentle lips turned into a blazing hunger, almost impossible to suppress. But she remembers exactly the moment that those lips, those lips that gave her comfort and shelter, ripped the warmth out of her heart to replace it with ice. She remembers the moment her hopes were crushed and twisted into raw, agonizing pain.

And now that she is standing in front of her, Clarke realizes what a fool she was to think that she could ever move on, that she could ever forget. Staring at her is enough to make all the contrasting emotions flooding her again, with such an unbearable intensity that the hand still holding the gun starts shaking.

The feeling of awe slowly subsides, and she starts getting control over her senses back. It is then that she notices Lexa's gaze subtly shifting to her raised arm, and she knows that the grounder has seen her tremors. That is what makes her lower her weapon. It has nothing to do with knowing that Lexa is not a threat. If her hand wasn't shaking, her gun would still be aimed at her. But Clarke doesn't want her to see how affected she is. It makes her so angry to think how much power the dark haired girl still holds over her.

"I did not mean to startle you."

Clarke's eyes almost flutter shut and it takes every ounce of her strength not to let out a deep, ragged sigh. Lexa's voice is soft, quiet, shy almost. It lacks the severity and solemnity Clarke has heard her use in council meetings or with her warriors before battle. It is, instead, the tone she would have when they were alone, hiding for the briefest moments from the weight of their responsibilities. Seeking refuge one into the other without even realizing it. It is in that moment that Clarke knows she is not staring at the Commander. Her looks had already thrown hints at the blonde: no shoulder guard, the regal coat replaced in favor of a simple leather jacket, face clean of the war paint that would turn the emerald of her eyes into steel. But her voice is the definite proof. There is only Lexa standing in front of her.

And Clarke cannot deal with this. She cannot deal with the turmoil of feelings the girl stirs inside of her. She is already a mess, and this is simply too much. So she does the only thing she can to survive. She accepts Lexa's gift. She lets the ice invade her, she lets it freeze and kill. And when all she can feel is cold, she prays that shield of ice is enough to protect her.

"You overvalue yourself if you think that was even only a possibility. I just wasn't expecting to see you. Ever again."

"I know..." Lexa nods in agreement, once, like Clarke has seen her doing dozens of times. "I was not expecting to see you again either, Clarke."

Hearing the grounder rolling her name on her tongue, like a prayer that has no more hopes of being answered, is almost overwhelming, and Clarke has to turn her body away from her to collect herself. She doesn't need this. She needs the detachment, the ice. So she closes her eyes and refuses to focus on that hint of pain she heard in Lexa's voice. Instead she focuses on her words, on the true meaning behind them. And when she feels a brand new emotion threatening to surface, instead of refusing it she clings to it for dear life. And she is almost surprised by how easy and... comforting... it is for her to embrace her resentment.

"Yeah, I can only guess how surprising it must be to meet again someone you betrayed and left to die."

Clarke turns around once again, but it is even before meeting her eyes that she knows her words cut deep into the grounder. She heard the way she hitched her breath up. The tension in her shoulders makes it only more evident, and Clarke would have to be blind to miss the flash of hurt that passes in her eyes. Still, Lexa doesn't reply. She just looks down to the ground, not saying anything, and Clarke doesn't know if she feels more relieved or enraged for the lack of response.

Several moments pass before she realizes Lexa is not going to say anything. She could antagonize her, but from what she has seen it doesn't seem it could be much of a use, and she is way too tired for a pointless waste of energies.

"Well, since we've had such a great talk..." she lets out an annoyed sigh, "I'm gonna lie down again. You... I don't know, do whatever you want, for all I care."

She is walking back to her makeshift bed when Lexa's voice suddenly stops her. "Your fire is dying out..." Clarke stares back at her with one eyebrow raised. Of all the things she could have said... "You will freeze if you don't revive it."

Clarke can only let out a sarcastic chuckle at the absurdity of Lexa's words. _Now_ she worries about her. "I survived out here for months, a little cold is definitely not going to kill me now. If you were so worried about me you should have shown up during winter."

Lexa stares into the distance and mumbles something so quietly that Clarke almost misses it. But when she finally makes out the words, she realizes the Commander probably hoped she wouldn't hear them. _"I didn't know how to find you."_

"And now? How did you find me now?" Lexa takes a couple of steps forward before noticing the way Clarke stiffens, so she immediately stops.

"My scouts spotted you near the gates of the capitol, two days ago, and they informed me."

Yes, that makes sense. But Clarke can't help but feel irritated by the fact that she was located so easily. She believed she had been careful enough to not be noticed. All her efforts seem stupid. She places her gun in the waistband of her pants and folds her arms across her chest, a shield of flesh and bones, and raises her chin. There is a hard look on her face.

"So? I passed nearby your beloved Polis, yes. Did I commit some sort of a crime, is that why you're here? Did I violate any of the terms of our alliance? Oh wait, I forgot there is no alliance anymore." She is not proud of her words, of the venom seeping out of her mouth, but it feels good to let some of it out finally. Her relief is short lived, though, because she does not see pain on Lexa's face. She only sees confusion.

Clarke frowns, and her head tilts to the side, silently inviting Lexa to explain herself. "The alliance stands."

"What?" She cannot even pretend to not be affected by what she just heard. It is too unbelievable. After everything that happened, after such an astounding betrayal, she cannot imagine her people willing to maintain an alliance with those who left them to be slaughtered.

"How?" Her voice is much less steady than she would like.

"It wasn't long before rumors that the Mountain had fallen started spreading. The Mountain Men are dead, all of them. The Skai Heda defeated the monsters and saved all her people. That's what they said." Clarke feels the cracks forming in her ice shield, as flashes of melted faces pass through her mind. Her gaze wanders around for a few seconds, looking anywhere but at Lexa's face, until it settles on her feet. She is so focused on driving those images away that this time, when Lexa slowly advances, she doesn't react. She is barely breathing when the grounder goes on. "I couldn't believe it, at first. It didn't seem possible. But then I rode to your camp..." she pauses for a moment, "to see you..."

But Clarke was long gone at that point. She tries to imagine what would have happened if she had stayed. What she would have felt seeing Lexa arriving at Camp Jaha to discuss an alliance that took everything from her. She is relieved when Lexa's voice fills the thick silence again. This way, she can distract herself from thoughts that do nothing but inflicting more torment.

"It was Abby who told me you were gone. And she was the one who proposed to keep the alliance intact, despite-" she halts herself, but it is already too late. Clarke knows what she was about to say, and she lifts her gaze to meet Lexa's troubled eyes. Her anger for the betrayal stirs again inside of her, like a wild animal that's being poked with a stick. She has to do a better job than this, she realizes, as she feels anger boiling deep down in her stomach.

"Why would my mother want an alliance with you?" Her voice is cold, hard, and she feels slightly more satisfied.

"We agreed that both our people needed peace. That too many lives had already been lost..."

Clarke cannot help but scoff. Lexa's words make it seem so goddamn easy. No more war, we can live in peace. No more bloodshed. But Lexa is not the one who spilt the blood. She is not the one who committed an actual genocide. Clarke bears that weight so that her people can have peace, and any other day she can stand it. But not today. Not when the girl who turned her back on her is standing right in front of her, talking about how now, _now_ , their people can coexist.

She closes her eyes and passes a hand on her face. She is suddenly exhausted, like all energy has been sucked away from her veins. Her body and her spirit are thirsty. Thirsty for peace, quiet, relief, and all she gets is more anguish. Because the girl standing in front of her is not only the embodiment of everything she has been trying to forget, but she just threw her unspeakable crime right in her face, and Clarke is sure a spear to her chest would hurt less than this.

_Too many lives had been lost._ What an elegant way to talk about a massacre.

Clarke hates Lexa for this. She hates her careful choice of words. She hates that she tries to shield Clarke from her own sin. She hates that she even dares to talk about something she didn't witness, something she turned her back to. But most of all, Clarke hates being forced to hate her. Because she is already putting all her energy in trying to keep the shreds of what's left of her soul together, and now this... this is just too exhausting.

"You weren't there to see. Don't talk to me about lives lost when you weren't there to see." Her voice is low, her eyes still close. Only for a moment, though, because the burned bodies are there again, behind her lids, and she lacks the strength to face them. It has been taken away by wistful, haunted, breathtaking green eyes.

"Clarke-"

"Why did you come here?" She doesn't let her finish. She doesn't even let her begin. She has no intention of hearing whatever she has to say, whether it is a new life lesson or a pointless apology. It is too late for both. She opens her eyes and stares hard at the grounder. Lexa is looking back at her with such intensity Clarke is sure she can see through her, but her eyes also radiate raw vulnerability. They are a window. Lexa can stare into Clarke's soul, but she is silently begging Clarke to stare into hers.

It is so tempting, to give in to that silent prayer, but Clarke is hellbent on giving the girl in front of her nothing. Her gaze is steel, she hardens her eyes, demanding a direct answer from the Commander. Lexa understands, and a soft sigh leaves her mouth before she speaks.

"I told you. My scouts spotted you. And I wanted to know it was really you."

"You could have sent your warriors. Instead you're here. Why?" Clarke doesn't grant Lexa any breathing space. She is insistent, careless of the obvious discomfort the brunette is experiencing. Clarke watches the way her throat moves in a swallowing motion, and when she finds the strength to actually talk, Lexa's voice is no louder than a whisper.

"I needed to see you..."

Clarke's thoughts flash to one particular day. She remembers it with impressive precision, even if it seems belonging to another life. She remembers being angered by the attitude of a way too cocky Commander. She remembers snapping and using words meant to be upsetting, words that turned an intimidating, proud Commander into a cowering, hurt girl. She remembers the confidence slip away from the girl's eyes, to be replaced by the same vulnerability she can see now. And she remembers another confession, whispered through trembling lips and screamed by glossy eyes. Just like now.

The only difference is that, back then, Lexa's words had left Clarke dizzy. In need of fresh air that could cool her scorching skin, and incredibly, impossibly thirsty. Now, she still feels a pang to her heart, but in response she lets her ice shell thicken, rejecting even the slightest hint of that unnamed feeling she used to feel.

"Well, you saw me. You can go now." Clarke gives Lexa her shoulder. She is proud of how detached her voice sounds. She managed to get through this encounter without breaking, and she almost wants to sigh in relief at the thought of it being over.

That's what she thinks, at least. Because after a couple of steps towards her sleeping bag, she realizes that she heard nothing. She didn't hear the sound of someone walking away. The only noise is her own steps. Clarke turns around again, and indeed, Lexa is still there, frozen on her spot.

"What, didn't you hear me? You can go," Clarke presses her, but Lexa does not move. Clarke is so frustrated with her lack of response that the vein in her neck starts throbbing in anger. "Go!" Clarke throws her arm towards the trees behind Lexa, gesturing her to leave. It is maddening: she didn't want to get angry, she wanted detachment. But the longer Lexa stands there, just staring at her, the harder it becomes for Clarke to keep her cool.

She almost gets to the point that she is ready to physically push Lexa away, when finally the grounder decides to speak.

"What are you doing here, Clarke?" Her voice is soft, Clarke recognizes hints of worry, sorrow, and what sounds like guilt. Lexa's gaze shifts, and Clarke sees her chest rising as she pushes a heavy breath into her lungs. "What are you doing to yourself?"

It is only then that Clarke follows Lexa's line of sight, and her eyes widen when she realizes the brunette is staring at her burned hand. She instinctively tightens it into a fist and folds her arms across her chest, in a useless attempt at hiding what has already been seen.

"What I do out here, and what I do to myself is not of your concern." She is trying so hard to not let her voice shake that her throat actually hurts.

"But I can see that you are not fine," Lexa insists. "You cannot go on like this forever. It's consuming you. If you go down this path, you will-"

"Stop," Clarke interrupts her harshly. "I don't want your lessons. I have had enough to last ten lifetimes, so save it."

She thinks to all the times Lexa tried to teach her how to be a leader, about all the hard choices she was bound to make, about all the sacrifice. And she thinks to every time she fought those views, trying to hold on to the belief that she could win a war and still remain the good guy. Her stomach ties in knots when she thinks how wrong she was. How wrong she had always been.

"You were a good teacher..." She wants to sound sarcastic, but her voice is tinged with melancholy. "You should be proud of me, I learned in the end. You were right. To win, you have to be ready to make any sacrifice, you have to be ready to do anything. Even become a monster." She inhales deeply and closes her eyes when she feels the prick of tears. Despite her self-control, though, the sigh that comes out of her mouth is still awfully ragged. "And I won, Lexa..."

It's the first time since that fateful night that Clarke says her name out loud, but the sound of those few letters tumbling past her lips still feels so familiar. Like all this time she has done nothing but whispering that name over and over again.

"You are not a monster, Clarke. There is still light inside of you..."

The blonde sets her sight on Lexa again. She takes everything in. The way the grounder's entire body is tense, straining not to move from where she is, not to take the few steps that separate them, to respect Clarke's wish of keeping the distance. The way she keeps swallowing to send away the lump that is surely stuck in her throat. The way she is looking at her, like Clarke has just sinned by suggesting she could be anything less than the brightest star in the sky, let alone a monster. And it sparks anger inside of Clarke. Because what she is feeling is conflicting, and painful, and soothing. She hates Lexa... She wants to hate her... She has the right to hate her... But hating her feels like an entirely new blasphemy. The only thing she knows for sure is that she is angry. She is so angry, because the girl in front of her makes her feel so confused. Because pouring her hate on her is not as easy as it should be. Because Lexa dares to try to comfort her, to give her the false hope that she is still a good person, while all she is doing is strengthen her pain. If there ever was light inside of her, it has already turned into the deepest darkness.

"Any light inside of me is gone." Clarke sees a soccer ball in a dining hall. A tiny leg next to it, a leg that will never move again, that will never run, that will never kick that ball again.

"You did what you had to do–"

"I did what _you_ forced me to do." Clarke sharply points her finger at her to highlight her words. The hiss she lets out is ingrained with violence and resentment, and suddenly suppressing the whirlwind of emotions going through her becomes an impossible challenge. "I would not be here if you hadn't betrayed me, so now please, spare me your words of comfort."

Clarke notices the changes in Lexa's posture. She straightens her back, she stiffens, and the repeated tightening of her jaw is the physical evidence that she is trying to maintain control. She is trying to be the emotionless Commander. But she cannot hide from Clarke, and the subtle quiver in her voice betrays her.

"I am trying to help you..."

Clarke stares at her for a moment before a mirthless laugh leaves her mouth. She lets it die before it has the chance to turn into the sob that's hiding in the back of her throat. _A sign of weakness_ , Lexa would call it. Instead she inhales acutely through her clenched teeth, and her face contorts with the anger she cannot contain anymore.

"I don't need your help now. I needed it that night. I needed you to stay by my side, to believe in us, to trust me. I needed an alternative to a plan that forced me to damn my soul!" She blinks repeatedly because her eyes are starting to burn. "But you took that away. Because you left. You left us. You– you left _me_!"

Clarke pushes her hand against her own chest, right above her heart, and it is too late to restrain the cry that has already left her mouth. "You abandoned me!"

She has never had a real chance to deal with all the emotions Lexa's actions stirred in her. She had lost interest in them once her own actions had turned her into a lost soul. But now it's just the two of them, and the grounder's liquid eyes hold so much sorrow into them that Clarke for a second believes Lexa is suffering more than she is. Only for a second, though. Because her mind provides her an image forever burned in her memory. A face encrusted with blood, war paint that swallows any light, eyes darkened to the point that forest green has molded into cold steel grey. She thinks to the desperate plea she made with her own eyes, and to the merciless answer she was given in return.

And that's it. Her walls fall apart, and Clarke lets herself drown in her pain and rage.

"After all I did, after you told me that you trusted me, after all we shared together... damn it, I gave you my trust and you stabbed me in the back! You offered my people as fodder for the Mountain Men and you left me to die! We were allies! We were–" Clarke has to stop. She doesn't know what she wanted to say, because she doesn't have a word to describe what they really were. "But we were all expendable to you, weren't we? You never cared..."

"You know that's not true, Clarke," Lexa says promptly. And Clarke knows it. She knows Lexa wishes she could be ruthless and swallow down her feelings, but Clarke has seen her fail miserably. Just like she has seen the single tear shining on the Commander's cheek right before she left. The problem is that now she is the one who doesn't want to care, and she is much more skilled than the grounder. "But I told you. I made that choice with my head, not my–"

"You don't have a heart." Clarke snarls with no hesitation. She doesn't even believe that, but giving vent to her anger feels good for once. She desperately needs relief and Lexa is an easy target. "You are cold, and vicious. You are dead inside." A shudder runs down her spine. "And now, thanks to you, I am too..."

Lexa stands in front of her, seemingly frozen. She is so still that Clarke is not even sure she is breathing. But when she catches sight of her hands balling into tight fists, she knows her words hit her. _Good_. And that is only the first sign. In the darkness, the dying fire paints a fluctuating dance of light and shadows over the grounder's face, and when for a second Lexa's eyes are fully illuminated, Clarke sees how misty they really are. The moment is gone immediately, though. After taking a long breath, Lexa turns her head and takes her eyes away from Clarke to stare at the ground.

No. No way. Clarke's rage wells up in her ten times over at the sight. There's no way she is letting Lexa getting away that easily. Before she knows it, Clarke has already shot forward and taken the few steps that separated them. She stops when they are only inches away from each other.

"Hell, no. You don't get to do that!" Her voice is trembling, just like her body. "Look at me, Lexa! You turned away from me already, you cannot do it a second time! It's too easy to say nothing and turn your head away, and you have no right to do it again. Do you hear me? LOOK AT ME!"

Clarke grabs the brunette's shoulder and shakes her until Lexa complies and meets her gaze again. From this distance, Clarke can take in every single detail of Lexa's face, nothing goes unnoticed. Her eyes a little wider than usual, surprised at the unexpected touch; the delicate flush over her cheeks; the way her full lips are barely parted. They are standing so close to each other it is almost painful, and Clarke is angry at herself when she realizes a part of her is straining to definitively close the gap between them. She locks that part of her away. She doesn't have enough strength to deal with the powerful feelings the grounder stirs in her, so she uses them. She takes the power Lexa holds over her and uses it to feed her rage against her.

"You are a coward," Clarke hisses. "You don't even have the guts to face me. Just like you didn't have the guts to fight. You took the easy way out and–"

"You think it was easy for me?" Lexa suddenly interrupts her, her voice the firmest it has ever been since she appeared from behind the trees. It is the first time she puts any sort of heat in her answer. She keeps her tone down, but it's all in her eyes. She lets them say what her voice cannot scream.

"Making that choice... leaving _you_ , to die," She doesn't sugarcoat it, she doesn't try to hide the gravity of her actions behind vague words. "It was one of the most painful decisions I had to take in my entire life. I cried tears of acid that night, because I wished I was free, but I wasn't."

"You were free... You were free to refuse the deal. You were free to be a decent person."

"I belong to my people, Clarke!" The blonde falls quiet when she hears the sudden surge of volume in Lexa's voice. "Now and for the rest of my days. As long as I am Commander, my priority will always have to be them. It doesn't matter what I want. I don't have the freedom to choose."

Then Lexa's eyes grow softer. She nips at her lower lip, almost like she is unsure whether she should keep talking or not. But in the end, she lets out a sigh and forces herself to say it. "Just like you had no freedom that night..."

Hearing those words, breath halts in Clarke's throat. Her hand slips away from the grounder's shoulder and a quiet gasp escapes from her mouth. At the mention of her horrifying crime, her head starts spinning and she stumbles back, her eyes wandering around, focusing on everything and nothing.

"Clarke, you–"

"Don't." The word comes out strangled from Clarke's mouth. She knows Lexa saw her distress, but she doesn't want to have this conversation, she _can't_ have this conversation. She is already on the verge of losing control, so she tries to stop it before it is too late. But she underestimated Lexa's desire to offer her comfort.

"A true leader must make hard choices. You did what was best for your people, Clarke. Torturing yourself for this is pointless. I understand your pain but–"

In the beginning, Clarke is not sure of what happened. All her brain registered was a dull noise and then silence. She is shaking hard, and blood is ringing in her ears, but it is only when she focuses on Lexa that she realizes what she has done. The throbbing pain in her left knuckles receives an explanation when she sees Lexa's reddened cheekbone. The brunette's head has snapped to the side, the tendons in her neck tense to the extreme, her jaw clenched to the point that it probably hurts.

For a moment time stops, the shock for what happened leaving Clarke frozen. But then her eyes set on Lexa's arms: she sees how rigid they are, forced in that position, forced to stay still at her sides. And it is then that Clarke understands what Lexa just did. She realizes that her punch hit the mark only because Lexa refused to react. Only because Lexa granted her this moment of outburst. She let herself be hit. Out of sympathy? Out of guilt? Out of love? Clarke doesn't know, but she hates that her actions were once again conditioned by the girl in front of her.

And she sees red.

"Screw you..." Clarke feels blood rushing to her head. There is a second when she still tries to keep herself together, but Lexa turns to stare at her again, and her eyes look way too much like they did that night. And for Clarke, there is no going back.

"SCREW YOU!" she screams with all the voice she has. Everything rushes back to her. Every memory, every painful emotion she has tried to bottle up for all this time hit her like an unstoppable tidal wave, and she lets everything out. No control, no restraints anymore. It is too late for that.

"Don't you dare say you understand my pain! You don't know, Lexa! I am the one who had to do it, not you! You left, and I had to kill them. ALL OF THEM! I pulled that lever and exterminated them!" Tears well up in her eyes and cloud her sight but she does not stop. If anything, she screams even louder, unleashing her anger and guilt.

"I killed people who helped us! Innocent people, Lexa! Children! I murdered CHILDREN! I watched them scream, and burn, I saw the terror and pain in their eyes. I lived all that, not you, because YOU LEFT!" Suddenly she feels sick. She doubles over, hands on her knees, taking short, repeated breaths in a desperate attempt at not throwing up. As she glances up briefly, she sees an arm slowly being extended towards her, and she reacts as if someone was trying to burn her with a hot iron.

She shoots up and violently slaps Lexa's arm away. "Don't touch me!" Through tears filled eyes, Clarke swears she can see her pain mirrored on Lexa's face, but she doesn't care. She is too hurt, her pain too raw. Blood seems acid under her skin, and every breath feels like inhaling toxic air. She doesn't have a word to describe what she is feeling, she is not even sure it exists.

"Look at your masterpiece, Lexa!" Clarke wildly waves at herself. Words come out of her mouth freely. She is an erupting volcano, and she wants Lexa to drown in the same lava that is burning her alive from the inside. "The student has surpassed the master. You were right when you said I would have done what you did. I did worse! Much worse! Are you happy? I am like you, a 'true leader'!"

The last two words fall out from her mouth as a sneer. As she stares at Lexa, Clarke is smiling, but it feels wrong, forced. It is worse than screaming and she soon purses her lips, and her face scrunches up, tears dangerously close to falling down her face. Her eyes fall close when she hears Lexa say her name again. Despite Clarke's visceral desire to be disgusted by anything connected to the grounder, she cannot help but feel that the way she whispers her name holds a cleansing effect. What a sadistic joke.

"I never wanted to make you go through this," Lexa says. "I never wanted you to feel like–"

"It's not that you didn't want me to feel like a monster." Clarke cuts her off, her gaze blazing fire. "You just thought that I would not feel anything. Ever again. Because you left me to die. And I'll tell you one thing Lexa. I'd rather be dead than be what I am right now." She is not even yelling anymore. It is not necessary for her words to hit Lexa like a bullet.

"Death is a better fate than this. Than being like you."

A deafening silence fills the air around them, swallowing everything. It allows no escape from the words yelled and hissed. Instead, everything resonates aloud in its nothingness, and the heaviness of the things said feels cruelly underscored. An expression has appeared on Lexa's face that Clarke cannot read. Her features are hardened, she is trying to hide herself behind the Commander's mask, but Clarke knows her well enough to see that her words are gnawing at her insides.

Clarke waits. She waits for Lexa to defend herself, to respond to her harsh accusation, to give her proof that she really is the monster Clarke desperately needs her to be. But nothing of this happens. Lexa just keep looking at her, and Clarke's chest tightens. The kindness in the liquid forest that is Lexa's gaze is disarming. There is sadness in her eyes, much more intense than before, but there is also acceptance. She won't try to make Clarke change her judgement of her. And indeed, after another moment that seems eternal, Lexa nods.

"I understand, Clarke..."

Clarke's eyes widen for a second, before her eyebrows narrow in a frown. She doesn't understand how someone can be so unnerving. Her mouth falls slightly open at the unexpected answer, but she quickly shakes her head in disbelief.

"That's it? That's all your going to say, seriously?"

This time she doesn't even receive an answer. A direct one, at least. Because Lexa's stare subtly shifts away from her, and there is nothing else that needs to be added. Clarke feels her anger rising again. The big veins in her temples are throbbing painfully, and she wonders if it is possible to actually explode out of frustration. She raises her arms in a gesture of deep annoyance and scoffs.

"Oh, come on! You're unbelievable, Lexa! Why do you have to be like this?!" Everything about the grounder drives her insane, but nothing more than her twisted life philosophy. The philosophy that leaves no room for weakness, for feelings. The same philosophy that put them in this situation. "We are in the forest, in the middle of nowhere! Nobody is here except us, and yet you can't help yourself, can you? You always need to be so goddamn strong! Why, Lexa? Why can't you let go for just a second? Why do you always have to be so s–"

"I am not strong."

The words are barely whispered but they shut Clarke up immediately. She quirks her eyebrows interrogatively. Lexa is still not staring at her, but Clarke sees her throat bobbing up and down, revealing her discomfort. And when eventually, after a soft sigh, Lexa glances back at her, Clarke sees the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. She doesn't understand the meaning of that look until Lexa speaks again.

"I wish I could be strong, Clarke, but I'm not. I am weak. Weakness entered my life the moment I laid my eyes on you..."

Such simple words. But Clarke recognizes the true meaning of them. She understands what Lexa is really confessing. She had done it already: expressing what she feels through oblique sentences. _Not everyone. Not you._ The fierce Commander trembling at the thought of directly exposing her feelings. But Clarke knows what she just said, and a thousand ' _I love you_ 's would pale compared to the strength of Lexa's admission. Clarke's throat is suddenly as dry as sand. It feels like someone has lit up a fire inside of her. Heat spreads into her heart, then in her stomach. She is almost surprised when she feels it ripple even further down, between her legs.

She basks in the warmth that Lexa's words evoked. For a moment everything disappears. She is just a girl looking at a girl who has just confessed her love, and she wants nothing more than throw herself at the grounder and lose herself into her. But suddenly Clarke feels overwhelmed. The intensity of what she is feeling terrifies her. It is too much all together, and she backtracks. Heat is replaced by cold, and spikes made of ice force their way into her heart.

Clarke puts on the hardest face she can manage, and tries to devoid her eyes of any emotion.

"You can go back to being strong. There is nothing here for you. _Commander_."

Clarke hates herself for what she is doing, but she also can't help herself. Her heart is fragile, and to protect it she only has her cage of anger and coldness. If she let anything in, if she let Lexa's love in, her shield would crack, leaving her naked, exposed. So instead, she strikes the girl who just stripped before her, who exposed herself completely. She hurts Lexa when she is at her most vulnerable.

Clarke sees Lexa's eyes darken, the pain from the stinging rejection is visible on her face. Clarke is disgusted by herself when she realizes that a part of her enjoys watching Lexa suffer. Some sick retribution for the pain she went through because of the grounder. She wants her to snap. She wants to provoke a reaction in the icy Commander. She wants Lexa to sink to her level.

The brunette disappoints her, though. There is no screaming, no crying. Only subtle details show the real extent of Lexa's hurt. She doesn't even seem mad, just... resigned.

They hold each other's gaze for another moment. Then Lexa lets out a shaky breath and nods slowly.

"I didn't expect a different answer. I understand, Clarke," she repeats. Her voice is soft, almost uncertain, but there is no trace of resentment in it. Then something changes, so swiftly that Clarke almost misses it. In a blink, Lexa straightens her back, raises her chin, and suddenly the gentle, vulnerable girl is once again hidden behind her terrifying title. Except that Lexa could never hide her true self with Clarke, but she has to try this time. She _needs_ to try. "Coming here was a mistake. I wished to help you, but I can see that my presence disgusts you, and the last thing I want to do is cause you more pain."

Clarke frown, confused. She doesn't understand what is happening. Until one moment ago, she was controlling the situation, but Lexa has turned things around and is now ending their conversation. On her terms.

"I get that you are angry at me, you have every reason to be. I will not ask you to forgive me for what I did, because I can't apologize. I cannot apologize for choosing to save my people. But know this, Clarke..." The blonde wishes she could believe Lexa is lying, but she can see her eyes, and there is only pure honesty in them. "I never meant to hurt you, and I am sorry for the suffering you are experiencing now. I cannot change what happened, nor I would, but I do wish things had gone differently."

Lexa inhales heavily through her nose, and Clarke spots a light twitching in her jaw. "I understand if you loathe me. And I don't want you to hurt any more than you're doing right now. So I will go. I will not force my presence on you again, Clarke."

When she sees Lexa take one more deep breath and turn away, Clarke is initially bewildered. She just stands there, dumbstruck, watching the grounder walk away. A sense of deja-vu washes over her, as her mind flashes back to their last encounter, ended in the exact same way. _May we meet again._

But then her heart clenches painfully, and the blood in her veins starts boiling. Before she knows it, Clarke's entire body is shaking with a feeling too intense to be simply described as rage. She can't believe it. Lexa is doing it a second time. She is leaving her. _Again_. And what is worse, she is not doing it out of cruelty, she is doing it out of affection. She is doing it for Clarke. Her care and kindness are infuriating, and they make it hard for Clarke to look at her as a monster. Clarke needs to know that they are both horrible people, that she is not alone. But Lexa's actions say the opposite, and Clarke feels even more alone and guilty. She stands there, shocked once again by Lexa's unpredictable behavior. But if the shock is big, it is still not enough to paralyze her like that fateful night. She has no intention of keeping quiet now.

"That's it? You're just going leave me again? Where is your bravery, Commander?" She antagonizes Lexa, hoping to get to her, to break her composure. But Lexa just keeps walking, ignoring Clarke's words. And Clarke is so furious that she lets the darkest side of her take control. She abandons herself to that side of her that she loathes, that side of her that wants to make Lexa suffer more than anything else.

"I wonder if you stayed this frigid when Costia died."

And Clarke gets what she wanted. Because Lexa stops. The hint of a smile appears on the blonde's face now that she has found out how to hit Lexa, and she violently pushes away everything in her mind and heart screaming that what she is doing is wrong. And cruel. She doesn't care. She is hurt, and a wounded heart does not use logic.

"Yes, Lexa. I wonder if you managed to keep your cool when you received her head," Clarke hisses. Her words are venomous, but her mouth is working on its own, spitting out cruelty after cruelty. She starts advancing slowly towards Lexa, who is completely still, her back impossibly stiff. "Although, this part was never really clear to me. I've always assumed the Ice Nation sent you her head, but you told me she was tortured. How would you know that? Did they send you her body _and_ her head? Did they send you her headless body? How did it go?"

She has reduced the distance between them to only a few feet, and Lexa still hasn't turned around to face her. But this time Clarke knows her words are cutting deep inside the brunette. Her arms are rigid, fists clenched tightly, and she is trembling. But the demon that has taken over Clarke's soul has no mercy and just keeps rubbing salt into wounds that never healed.

"You know it's your fault, right? Costia died because of you. Because she had the misfortune of loving you. And I bet during her last moments she cursed your name and your love for her. Had she never met you, she would have been spared all that suffering. It wasn't the Ice Nation who killed her. It was you. Everything you touch turns to blood, and death."

Clarke uses words as sharp as knives. With every malicious thing that escapes from her mouth, she feels small pieces of what's left of her soul dissolve, because what she is doing is just too evil. The worst part is that she doesn't even believe what she is saying, making every word gratuitously sadistic. But it is too late to go back, and she needs Lexa to feel a pain as intense as what her actions caused.

When Clarke stops talking, silence falls between them. A silence so thick that not even a knife could cut through it. The only audible sound is the popping of the fire that somehow is still burning. Clarke is focused solely on the girl standing in front of her, though. She watches her, waiting. Then Lexa bows her head forward, and Clarke hears the faintest hint of a snivel. That's when she knows she was horribly right: not even the Commander can remain impassive after what she said.

Clarke waits for her outburst, for the breakdown. And keeps waiting. But several moments pass, and Lexa does nothing. She doesn't even turn around. She stays there, head down, quiet. It gets to the point that Clarke passes a hand on her face and snorts in frustration.

"And again, you have nothing to say! Really, I don't get how you can be such a cold–"

"Her head."

It is no louder than a whisper, there is barely any sound in the words, but Clarke still hears it and falls quiet. Looking at the grounder, she furrows her brow, initially confused by her response. But it is when Lexa sighs softly and goes on that she understands what the brunette is referring to. "They sent me her head..."

Clarke realizes that Lexa is answering to her previous question, a question Clarke had asked only to hurt her and thought she would never answer to. For a second, the monster inside of her almost takes over again, and she is is ready to challenge Lexa on the hard topic. But when she hears Lexa's next words, strangled, quivering, Clarke loses her ability to speak.

"But they sent me one of her ears first."

And then Lexa, ever so slowly, turns around to face her, and Clarke cannot stop the gasp that escapes her mouth. After only one glance, she knows that the look on Lexa's face will haunt her for the rest of her life. She is pale, more than she has ever been. Her lips are slightly parted, trembling, her shoulders slump. There is no trace of confidence or austerity in her posture anymore, and she looks so defenseless. But her eyes... her eyes will stay impressed in Clarke's mind forever. They are blurred with tears that have amazingly not fallen down her cheeks yet. The salty drops make her eyes shine and turned her irises from emerald to a blue as dark as the night sky. And the pain that fills them is a stab to Clarke's heart. No, not pain. Agony. An agony ancient but never overcome. Always present but kept carefully hidden behind Lexa's walls. Until now. Because Clarke just tore those walls down, and Lexa has never been more raw.

"Then they sent me her fingers. One by one, no nails on them," Her voice is shaking and pained just as much as her eyes. The torment written on her face is unbearable to witness, but her gaze is so piercing that Clarke can't bring herself to look away. Their eyes are linked together while Lexa goes on with the details of her horrifying story. "Then what was left of her hands. Then a small sack, that contained- that contained some of her teeth. And so on... They kept sending me parts of her, until I realized that, even if I did find her, she would never be the same again. And my heart was torn between the need to have my love next to me again and the wish that they would just kill her and put an end to her suffering..."

Lexa's words elicit nausea in Clarke, together with a deep sense of guilt for having forced the grounder to bring her painful past up. Clarke's anger is fading away, to be replaced by shame. She holds back a sigh of relief when finally Lexa looks away, to stare off into nothing. She seems so young and old at the same time. Clarke watches her in the silence of the night. She studies her gaze, so woeful and guilty. She studies the curve of her throat, and notice that she is having problems swallowing. Her eyes are red, and that she is not blinking. If she did, tears would cascade down her face, Clarke realizes.

"I know it was my fault," Her tone is much lower than before, hoarse. "Everything that you told me... I've already said all of it to myself, over and over again... I spent so many nights wishing we had never met, wishing I'd just walked away the day I first saw her. The Ice Nation tortured her to death because of her love for me. She died for me." Clarke suddenly thinks to the night she killed Finn, the night Lexa said the exact same words to her. And hearing the suffering in her voice, she can't help but believe that, when she mercifully ended Finn's life, Lexa had probably felt a pang of jealousy. Jealousy at the impossibility to do the same for her lost lover, impossibility to spare her all that pain.

"And no..." Clarke snaps out of her thoughts to find Lexa's eyes staring back at her once again. "I did not keep my cool, Clarke... I let my pain consume me. I destroyed Azgeda's villages. I tortured and murdered their leaders. I slaughtered men, women, children. I became so bloodthirsty that even my warriors feared me. And if Anya hadn't convinced me to negotiate with the Ice Queen, I would have dragged my people into a war that would have cost most of them their life."

Lexa inhales deeply, struggling to recompose herself. "I became _frigid_ after that. Because looking into the eyes of the woman who'd murdered Costia and calling her my ally was too painful... Because thinking about the monster my emotions had turned me into was too terrifying... So I know it, Clarke. I know what I did, and I know what I am..."

She closes her eyes and takes another deep, long breath. She swipes a hand over her face, rubbing away the tears and the emotions, and Clarke watches as she slowly regains control over herself. The blonde feels jealous at that ability of hers. She had always thought that her feelings made her strong, she was proud of that. But now that they are tearing her heart apart she wishes she could just swallow them down like Lexa.

"I know you said all that because you want me to hurt," When the grounder opens her eyes again, Clarke sees acceptance in them. "You want me to suffer like you are suffering. I get it Clarke," she nods "and I accept it..."

Now that tears are disappearing from Lexa's eyes, Clarke feels them forming behind her own eyes. Her chest tightens painfully at her words: _she accepts it_. Like she is a martyr. Like she is the good guy and Clarke is the monster. Her heart feels crushed into a vise of shame, guilt, pain. Hatred.

"Except that it wouldn't happen, would it?" Her voice is huskier than it has ever been. "You would not hurt, because you are so good at pushing down your feelings. _Accepting it_ doesn't make you a good person. You are not a good person. You can't be, because you are made of stone."

Lexa doesn't reply this time. She just stares at her, and her eyes convey all her sorrow and regret, proving the opposite of what Clarke just said. But Lexa doesn't try to make her change her mind. She holds her gaze for another moment, then a quiet whisper leaves her mouth.

"Goodbye, Clarke..."

Clarke's eyes go wide when she realizes that Lexa is about to leave again. She will be alone with her pain again, and Lexa will move one. And there is nothing that terrifies her more, she realizes. And when Lexa turns away from her, her body is frozen by fear and set on fire by rage.

"No, you can't do that... Stop... STOP!"

She doesn't know how it happens. All she knows is that, suddenly, her gun is in her hand. The click of the safety going off resonates in the silence, and it is that noise that pushes Lexa to turn around again. Clarke sees the surprise on her face at the sight of the gun trailed at her chest. The grounder's eyes quickly go from the barrel of the weapon to Clarke's face.

"Clarke?" There is caution in her voice, but Clarke finds no trace of fear, and it upsets her only more. She has lost any ability at staying lucid, she is driven only by the emotions that are ripping her apart from the inside. She knows Lexa can see all of it. Her eyes are watering quickly, the arm holding the gun is violently shaking, and her heart is thumping so hard against her ribcage that she is almost sure Lexa can hear it.

"I can't- I can't let you-" What comes out of her mouth sounds like a whimper, and she doesn't even know what she wants to say. Or do.

"Do you want to shoot me?"

"SHUT UP!" she yells, and tightens her hold on the gun. "You were going to do it again, weren't you? Tear me to pieces and leave me. Not this time, Lexa. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being the only one in pain, the only one who feels guilty!" Her face scrunches up, revealing all her torment. "I can't be the only one to suffer anymore..."

Lexa doesn't move. Clarke knows she could disarm her easily, but she doesn't. She doesn't even try to reason with her. There is no crying, no begging for mercy. Nothing.

"You think I deserve to die," Clarke doesn't answer, and it is more than enough for Lexa. "I will not fight you, Clarke."

Lexa's words hit her like a blow to the stomach. She is giving her the permission to kill her. Just like with the punch before, she is sacrificing herself to help Clarke. Except this time it would be the ultimate sacrifice. There's a moment when Clarke actually considers it. Pulling the trigger. Killing Lexa. She could close her eyes and just shoot, because she could never do it while staring into that green ocean. But she quickly realizes that she would only do Lexa a favor, she would only relieve her of her pain and burden. And Clarke would be left alone with her agony and her ghosts. And it is cruel, and it is selfish, but she is exhausted. A wrenching sob escapes from her mouth when she understands that she has no way out. Until it hits her. The brutal solution appears clearly in her mind.

And she presses the gun against her own temple.

The reaction is immediate. Lexa's eyes go wide and her body tenses, reaching for Clarke, but when she presses the gun even harder, Lexa freezes. Clarke sees it now. The panic, the fear that darkens her eyes. The grounder can't suppress them this time.

"Clarke, what are you doing?" She doesn't even sound like Lexa. Her voice is strangled, urgent. Scared.

"I'm doing the only thing I can, Lexa." One tear falls down her flushed face. "The only thing that will make the pain stop..."

"No, no..." Lexa frantically shakes her head, and Clarke wonders if she looked like this when Costia disappeared. "You're not thinking straight. Put down the gun and–"

"Don't tell me what to do!" she screams, and Lexa raises her arms in a surrendering gesture. Clarke has never seen her this upset: her eyes are darting from the gun to Clarke's face and she's holding her breath.

"Then don't point that gun at yourself!" her voice is just as loud as Clarke's, and her anguish seeps through it. "Point it at me. It's what you wanted, right? It's _me_ that you want to hurt..."

"That's the whole point of this!" She repeatedly slams the barrel against her temple. The metal is cold against her blazing skin, and she can feel a drop of sweat running down her face. "This is the solution to everything! If I do this, I stop suffering. My pain goes away. But yours doesn't." she hisses finally through clenched teeth.

She observes Lexa's face and catches the moment realization washes over the grounder. The moment she understands and pure panic invades her. Her mouth opens and closes more than once, as if she is trying to think about something to say that could convince Clarke not to do this. And yet she says nothing. Not with her mouth, at least. Her eyes say more than enough.

"Could you live with that? Could you live with the knowledge that you caused the death of another person you loved?" It takes Clarke only one look to get the answer she needs. This is torture for Lexa, Clarke knows it. This is torture for both. Never in her life Clarke could have imagined herself hurting someone so deliberately and so cruelly. She is repulsed by what she has become. She _can't live_ with what she has become. The weight of a gun in her hand has always bothered in the past, but not now.

"We deserve to suffer, Lexa," Her face contorts, pain twisting her features, and she works hard to swallow the lump in her throat. "But I'm not strong anymore. I can't do this anymore..."

Lexa is shaking again, her lips a thin line, and she inhales heavily, probably to prevent a sob from escaping her throat. Clarke thinks she has never seen someone look so desperate in her entire life. She knows the grounder is trying to think about a solution, any solution, and she knows that the despair written on her face is the proof that she hasn't found anything. She is stuck, powerless. There is a veil of tears over Lexa's eyes that speaks of her inner turmoil. It says she would prefer any sort of horrifying torture to this. It says that Clarke is right: this will destroy her forever. But she can't bring herself to say anything. Words don't come out of her mouth, except one. One silent prayer. One name.

"Clarke–"

"STOP SAYING MY NAME!" she screams. It is unbearable. Hearing her name whispered with so much love by the person she should hate the most.

"You don't get to say my name like that, not anymore! You brought me to this!" With her free hand Clarke gestures to herself, and she lashes out, letting out screams so harsh that leave her throat hoarse. "I HATE YOU! I hate you because you left me, because you turned my life into a living hell, because you betrayed me and forced me to become a monster!" But she doesn't stop there, because that would be only half of the truth, and she wants to be honest now. She wants to bare her soul to Lexa. Now, while she still can.

"I hate you, because when you appeared from behind the trees my heart threatened to burst through my chest, and I felt like I was going to pass out. I hate you because I can smell your scent right now, and it is intoxicating! I hate you because your smile appears in my dreams, and I wake up with the taste of your lips on mine. I hate you... because I can't hate you." Her eyes are burning, and she is not sure how tears still haven't fallen down. "I hate you because it's easier to hate myself than it is to hate you..."

Clarke's voice is low by now. It has gone progressively breaking during her outburst. The gun is still against her head, but she is trembling so hard that she has to adjust her arm more than once. For the entire time, her eyes have never left Lexa, watching the shift of emotions happening behind her eyes. Fear is always there, but it was joined progressively by pain, then guilt, and then shock. Shock at Clarke's unexpected admission. It is clear for Clarke that Lexa never expected her to feel something other than disgust for her after the betrayal. But the grounder lingers on that discovery for only a moment, and worry soon washes over her again. And then she does something unexpected. She pulls out her dagger.

Clarke narrows her eyebrows and stiffens immediately at the sight. For a second she thinks Lexa wants to use it to disarm her, but she has never been more wrong. And her mouth falls slightly open when Lexa presses the tip of the blade against her own chest.

"You are right. That pain you are feeling... I caused it. I did that to you. _I_ deserve to die," She is trying to make her voice sound firm, but it falters at every pause. "For what I did to you, I will carve my heart out and hand it to you. I will do it, right now, but you have to stop. Put down the gun. Don't do this to yourself because of me..."

Clarke knows she is not bluffing. She knows Lexa will do every single thing she just said, and it scares Clarke. It scares her that Lexa is ready to give her life for her without a second thought. And the fear she is feeling makes her realize how stupid she was to even think she could ever try to kill the girl in front of her. No. She doesn't want Lexa to die. But her pain is still there, like a boulder in her stomach. Like a blade flaying her from the inside.

"But I'm still guilty, and I'm still suffering. And I can't handle it anymore..." She breathes out the words, and Lexa shakes her head again, fear and despair all over her face again. She tries to breathe, but only a sob comes out. The first sob Clarke has ever heard her exhale.

"Clarke, _beja_..." Hearing Lexa's native tongue, whispered with such a hopeless, quivering tone, is a stab to her heart. She knows what she just said before Lexa even translates it. The one word she thought would never come out of the Commander's mouth.

"Please..."

In that moment, everything feels heightened to Clarke. Her arm shakes, her muscles tired of holding the weight of the gun up for so long. The metal feels like ice against her skin. The night is everything but hot, but she is sweating, and her clothes are suffocating her. She thinks about where she is, about what she is doing, and nothing makes sense. She has never felt so lost and alone in her entire life. Except that there is another person standing in front of her that shares her same fate. She is as lost and alone. It's just the two of them, two souls broken and exposed. They are connected, Clarke realizes. They will always be, linked together beyond any will or logic. She could end everything now, but it would also mean destroying Lexa's soul. And if in her anguish and rage of few minutes ago the thought was appealing, now it is just horrifying. She thinks to all the people she already killed, to all the sins she committed. One more should feel insignificant and instead it is everything. Guilt is already eating her alive. The only other life she could take is her own, but she knows what it would mean to Lexa. She wonders if she could do it. Could she choose to die as a monster to put a stop to her pain?

"I am become death..." she whispers, staring away into the darkness of the forest. She looks away for the briefest moment, but it is enough.

Everything happens too quickly. With the corner of her eye Clarke sees a jolt. She turns her head to see nothing where Lexa was once standing, and she is still thinking that it's impossible for someone to move that fast, when a strong hand wraps around her wrist, jerking her arm away from her head and trying to wrench the gun from her hand. Clarke panics and becomes pure instinct. In the chaos of the moment logic flies out of the window and she struggles without thinking. And before she knows it, her finger tightens on the trigger of the gun.

As the gun goes off, the shot echoes like a thunder in the silence of the night.

Clarke's ears ring painfully and she feels dizzy. She doesn't even know what really happened, but the smoking gun is still in her hand, and she is still breathing. It takes her a moment to focus again, and to realize what it is that feels odd. But when her mind finally clears, the sight before her makes her heart jump in her throat.

Lexa is on the ground. Her eyes are closed and she is not moving. Clarke watches her, paralyzed by horror, and she tastes bile when she sees that her right cheek is entirely covered in blood. Tremors starts running up and down her body, and the terrifying weapon that she's still holding falls from her hand. She tries to breathe, but her throat feels constricted and air can't seem to reach her lungs. She runs her hands through her hair, refusing to believe what she has done. She shot Lexa. Nausea washes over her and this time taking long breaths doesn't help. Because she can't breathe. A scream is stuck in her throat but she can't let it out. She shuts her eyes closed, frozen, the weight of the horror she just committed crushing her soul. She is about to drown in her renovated guilt, when she hears it.

A groan. Her eyes snap open and she stares at the girl that should be dead. Clarke's mouth falls wide open when she realizes that Lexa is very much not dead. The grounder groans again, and slowly opens her eyes. It is like someone breathed life into Clarke again. She watches in shock as Lexa blinks a couple of times, trying to focus. Her hand goes up to her face, and she winces in pain when she touches the bloodied cheek. It is only then that Clarke notices it: in her panic, she had only seen blood and had assumed the worst. But now she spots the huge gash that runs along Lexa's cheekbone, and she realizes that, for some miracle, the bullet only grazed her.

The grounder shakes her head to drive away the dizziness and then, slowly, pushes herself up, half sitting half lying on the ground. Too weak to stand up. It is only in that moment that their eyes meet. Clarke stares into that green so vivid and intense. Alive. There is no trace of anger, not even now. There is only the same concern for her, for someone that just shot her in the face. Clarke thinks with horror to what she wanted to do, to what she just did, to what could have happened, and it is too much. The combination of relief and despair is overwhelming.

Suddenly the sob that was stuck in her throat resurfaces. She can't choke it back this time and it escapes from her mouth. It is soon followed by another, even more heart wrenching, and there is no going back. Clarke feels something snap inside her soul. This is the moment she truly realizes how low she fell, what kind of person she has become. When that realization hits her, like a lightning in a storm, the pain and guilt become just too unbearable and impossible to swallow down. Before Lexa's worried gaze, Clarke stumbles on the spot for a few seconds. And as if that same pain and guilt had become tangible to physically crush her, Clarke falls on the ground.

Those first sobs are followed by others, and then others, and soon she is sitting on the ground in tears, crying like she has never done before, not even when her father died. She presses her face against her closed fists and keeps crying with no restriction, rocking back and forth like a child. There is no stopping to the tears that stream down her cheeks. Her heart feels so heavy in her chest, and she wonders if the grounders are right. If reincarnation is real and what she might have done in a previous life to deserve the suffering she is experiencing in this one.

"I- I don't know who I am a-anymore..." her voice is broken by frequent sobs, and she could be talking to herself for all she cares in her anguish, but she knows Lexa is listening to every word. "I don't know what I've b-become."

She tastes the salty drops on her lips, as tears keeps falling down, and she thinks they will never stop coming. Behind closed eyes she sees all the people that found their end because of her. She is drowning in blood and screams.

"I can't live like this, I c-can't live with the g-guilt... I'm a m-monster. I'm a monster..."

She keeps her face in her hands as she repeats that, her voice shaky and racked by sobs, until she hears a subtle noise. She raises her head to see that Lexa has shifted closer to her. Clarke stares at her bloodied face, and sees that her eyes are red with unshed tears as well. Lexa doesn't start crying like she has, though. Instead, she extends her hand towards her, reaching for her face. Her movement is slow, tentative, giving Clarke all the time to choose whether to accept her touch or not. Clarke doesn't recoil from it, and when Lexa's fingers arrive to barely brush her skin, she realizes that there is nothing she needs more than this. She bows her head, letting Lexa's hand fully cup her face. She abandons herself completely to the touch, and she makes no resistance when the brunette draws her near her. She leans forward and presses her face in the crook of Lexa's neck, crying onto her.

Clarke feels Lexa bringing her other arm around her, just as hesitantly as before, to hold her close. Clarke involuntarily shivers at the first touch, and Lexa's hand immediately stiffens, but Clarke quickly relaxes in that gentle embrace, and accepts that comfort she doesn't deserve. She keeps crying in Lexa's arms, sobbing with no restraint. She doesn't know when it happens, but soon Clarke raises her arms and wraps them around Lexa, clinging to her like she's the only thing keeping her from drowning in her tears. The grounder lets out a shaky sigh, and in her anguish the sky girl is hit by the realization that Lexa needs this as much as she does.

Tears keep coming, and Clarke is still wailing, but above all her sobs, she suddenly hears Lexa's voice. She is whispering things in her native tongue, and Clarke can't understand a word of it, but the sound is so soothing. Those words she will never know the meaning of give her comfort and calm her soul, and slowly, after what feels like ages, her sobbing finally dies down and the tears stop.

Lexa falls quiet too when she realizes Clarke has calmed down, but none of the two moves. Clarke is slightly shaking now, worn out by her breakdown, and she keeps still, reveling in the warmth of Lexa's touch and in her scent, crushed pine needles and fresh leaves, that is just as intoxicating as she remembered. She just breathes Lexa in, and does nothing to break this moment, because she knows that as soon as she does, all her ghosts and sins will come back to torture her. She just want this small measure of peace before she goes back to her atonement.

Clarke snuggles her head deeper into Lexa's shoulder, and her lips skim over her collarbone. She notices it immediately: Lexa's breath hitches up when her lips come in contact with the naked skin, and a shudder runs through her body. Clarke knows it has nothing to do with the cold, because seeing the effect she has on Lexa causes the same reaction in her.

She slowly lifts her face up. Her nose brushes first against the length of Lexa's neck, and then against her cheek, until they are face to face after what seemed like an eternity. There is barely an inch of distance between each other. Clarke's eyes are downcast, fixed on Lexa's trembling lips. She knows this is wrong: she knows this won't relieve her from her torment, she knows this is the last things she should do, the last thing she should _want_. But she wants it. They are away from everything and everyone, it is only the two of them here, in this purgatory. And this won't put an end to her agony, but it will give her a moment free from suffering. It will let her _breathe_ for a moment.

Any doubt that she could still have leaves her body when she looks up and her eyes meet Lexa's. There is still a thin layer of tears that make them shine like crystals. The green in her eyes has turned to a different shade again, and Clarke thinks Lexa must have walked through the forest and stolen its spirit. Because her eyes _are_ the forest. Right after a rainfall, when the sun rays have just started seeping through the trees again, making every leaf glow as light passes through them. Even with that huge gash and blood smeared all over her face, Clarke has never seen something so beautiful.

And before she can ruin everything by overthinking it, she leans forward and presses her lips against Lexa's. The kiss is soft, chaste, more tender than the first one they shared a lifetime ago. And still, the moment the saltiness of her tears dissolves and she tastes Lexa's taste on her lips again, Clarke forgets how to breathe. The warmth that ripples from that kiss spreads everywhere in her body, melting the ice that had taken root in her heart. She feels Lexa's hand, still against her cheek, shake lightly, and the grounder releases a soft sigh. A sigh that Clarke hears and _feels_ , a sigh that vibrates against her lips.

She presses more into the kiss. The additional pressure is barely perceivable, but Lexa does notice it, and deep down from her throat a sound comes out that is a mix of a whimper and a sob. Clarke feels the hand on her back slowly slide down to her waist. Lexa's movements are tentative, delicate, always so gentle, but they elicit reactions and sensations in Clarke that she had never experienced. Soon the timid contact is not enough for Clarke anymore, and she opens her mouth, taking Lexa's lower lip between hers. A shudder runs through the grounder, but when Clarke runs her tongue against the soft flesh trapped in her mouth, Lexa releases a moan filled with so much longing that Clarke starts aching with arousal.

Lexa follows Clarke's lead, letting her have control of the entire thing. Her hold becomes firmer on Clarke's waist only when she feel the blonde pushing into her, pressing her body against her with passion. Their lips break apart for the briefest second, so that they both can catch their breath, but they soon find each other again. And when Clarke teases Lexa with her tongue again, this time the brunette lets herself go and opens her mouth, allowing Clarke the entrance she desperately wanted. At the feel of Lexa's tongue against hers, Clarke's arousal doubles, triples, and she clenches her thighs, seeking friction to ease the ache between her legs. A quiet moan leaves her mouth to be captured by Lexa's. At first they are just exploring each other, content with the soft touches, but soon the already intense longing turns into an insatiable hunger. Clarke's tongue duels with Lexa's, as her touches become increasingly bolder. She tangles one hand into Lexa's braids, pulling her even closer to her, while the other slips under her shirt, to caress her back. She rubs Lexa's smooth skin with her burned hand, and the action feels healing, and the whine that escapes from Lexa's throat is almost Clarke's end.

Lexa is more tense than Clarke is, but her desire for the blonde is as powerful as the one Clarke feels for her, if not more, and she slowly lets herself get lost in the moment, feeling and exploring the girl from the sky. Clarke shakes at the feeling of Lexa's hands in her hair, against her skin.

This is what Clarke wanted. This moment of oblivion. Her mind is hazy, clouded by everything that is Lexa. But it is not enough, she needs more. She needs something that will kill the pain, even for a short time. Her body is working on its own, the sensations that she is feeling are overwhelming. She pushes her thigh between Lexa's legs, and she thinks she might come undone at the feeling of Lexa grinding on her. Her kisses become more and more aggressive, they are a clash of mouths and teeth and tongues. The intensity of Clarke's desire is almost scaring, and she is sure she will die if she doesn't get to touch every inch of Lexa's skin in the next ten seconds. So she stops fooling around. She keeps kissing Lexa with the same hunger, but her hands quickly travel down until they find their target: Lexa's belt. She starts fumbling with it, frantically trying to get it open with her eyes close. When she feels the buckle giving away, she is almost too aroused to function. Her hand is at the waistband of the brunette's pants, she can feel the hard muscles in Lexa's stomach trembling, and she herself trembles in anticipation. But before she can give in to her desire and push her hand into Lexa's pants, something happens that she would have never expected. Lexa pulls away.

She jolts away, would be a better choice of words.

Clarke doesn't realize what happened immediately. Her mind is still to foggy, there is a cloud of want clouding her thoughts. She opens her eyes at the sudden lack of heat against her body, and she sees Lexa, all flushed cheeks, bruised lips and chest heaving, and she knows she looks the same. The only thing that Clarke doesn't understand is the clear expression of pain and regret in her eyes that clashes with the rest. She is not even looking at her, Clarke realizes.

"I'm sorry..." Lexa pants, trying to regain the breath that Clarke stole from her. Then she shakes her head, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry but I can't do this."

Clarke frowns, and stares at her both confused and shocked. She doesn't understand: she knows what Lexa feels for her, and she's seen the way she reacted to her touch. Lexa wants her, Clarke is sure of it. Then, why?

"What does it mean?" she asks, her breathing as ragged as the one of the grounder. Lexa swallows thickly, and the sigh that she exhales after a long silence is too heavy for Clarke's liking.

"Clarke..." Her name again, said like she is the purest thing that ever walked on Earth. Lexa opens her eyes again and forces herself to face her again. They are inches away from each other's face, but Clarke feels like there is an ocean separating them.

"I know what you are trying to do." Clarke's heart drops down in her stomach. She doesn't know why she is surprised, Lexa can read her better than anyone else. But still, Clarke is shocked. "I know you want to drown your pain in a moment of oblivion, I know you want to forget for even an instant. But it won't work. Your pain will come back, more violent than ever. Trust me."

Clarke understands there is experience behind Lexa's words, and she wonders if she ever did the same to try and forget Costia. But suddenly she is terrified: because, if she can't even have a single moment of peace, then she is lost.

"Clarke..." Lexa calls her again, seeing the anguish on her face. "This will put a stop to your pain for a moment, but it will later cause you more suffering. I don't want that. I want your pain to end."

"But it can't..." Clarke whispers after a moment. She can't believe that she is back at this point, voice broken and tears in her eyes.

"Yes. Yes, it can."

She quirks her eyebrows at Lexa, trying to figure out what she mean. It is only when she sees the deep sorrow and resignation on her face that she realizes what she is really saying. And her heart stops.

"No–" she breathes, shaking her head, refusing the idea of what Lexa is proposing.

"If I hadn't betrayed you, you would have never had to kill all those people. I put you in that position. It is my fault..."

"No, I did it! I chose to do it. I am _guilty_!" She feels the lump in her throat again, and she can't believe she is about to cry again.

"But that guilt is tearing you apart, Clarke..." Lexa says with a soft voice. She doesn't deny Clarke's actions, but she speaks the truth when she says that Clarke can't do it anymore. And then she makes the horrifying offer. "Let me bear it for you..."

Clarke closes her eyes and a sob escapes her throat. No, she can't do that. She can't be this coward. "I can't let you do that," she whispers, shaking her head.

"I've caused you too much pain, Clarke. You've suffered enough to last a hundred lives. If this is what I can do to take that pain away from you, I will do it."

"But it's not fair, and you–"

"Do you want to be yourself again?" Lex cuts her off. Her voice is firm, but Clarke still hears the slight quiver in it, revealing how truly painful this feels to her too. "Do you want to be Clarke again?" she repeats, steadier this time, swallowing back emotions.

Clarke looks into her eyes, her eyes that can see right into her heart. She knows Lexa already knows the answer, just like she knows all her inner torment, the struggle between being brave and endure, and just letting go. But the grounder still waits for Clarke's word, for her to confirm this is what she wants. No, not what she wants, –she will never want this- but what she needs. Clarke should just say no, she should refuse this escape, but her heart is heavy against her ribcage, and Lexa's offer is so appealing. She has never been one for taking the easy way out, but she feels the weight of all she has done crushing her every day more. Here, in the darkness, she is not a warrior fallen from the sky, she is not a legendary leader, just like Lexa is not the Commander. She is an eighteen years old girl who has too many ghosts for her young age, and she is not brave enough to carry their weight anymore. She stares into the eyes of someone who thinks that love is weakness and doesn't know she is in fact the strongest person in this harsh world. Clarke falters under her gaze and her barriers fall down. And she gives in. Her weak heart selfishly gives in, and she nods, giving Lexa the answer she needs.

"Then close your eyes..." Lexa whispers. Clarke glances at her one last moment, catching the glimpse of tears in the grounder's eyes, before doing as she said. When she feels soft hands cupping her face and a forehead gently resting against hers, breath catches in her throat, and she has to swallow back a sob. Lexa's shaky breath is on her lips, and it so different from before. It is tinged with sorrow, and regret, and love, and nothing has ever felt more intimate to Clarke. She thinks to how unfortunate they were to meet in a world so cruel. She lets herself think of how they could have been in a different life, but it is only for a moment. She can't linger on those thoughts and survive this. She harshly empties her mind, and waits for Lexa to give her her heartbreaking gift.

" _I_ killed them," Lexa is trying to devoid her voice of any emotion, and Clarke knows it is the only way she has to get through with this. "I am responsible for their death, their blood is on my hands. Every single one of them, every innocent, every child... they are dead because of me. Say it."

Clarke hesitates, the reality of the monstrosity she is doing stopping her, but Lexa doesn't give her time to falter.

"Say it, Clarke." she repeats, more insistently, until the softest breath comes out of Clarke's mouth.

"You killed them..."

"Say it again."

"You... _you_ killed them." This time her voice is steadier, and Lexa hums softly. Clarke is not sure if it is with happiness or despair.

"I want you to repeat that in your mind, over and over again, until everything different from those words sounds like a lie to you. Erase any trace of yourself from that crime. You weren't there, _I_ was. You didn't pull that lever, I did. It is my fault, my guilt..."

Clarke lets every word sink in. It is horrifying that she can already feel their effect on her. Her stomach ties in knots at the thought of what she is letting Lexa do, but her heart feels lighter, the vise around it slackening. When she feels the light shaking in Lexa's hand, she is suddenly reluctant, and tries to push away any feeling of relief. She knows the weight of her actions, how consuming it is, and she is disgusted that she is coward enough to let Lexa take it. But Lexa doesn't let her be brave. She steadies her hand and keeps Clarke close to her, her touch not tender anymore, like she is trying to erase any good memory Clarke might have of her.

"You are not guilty, Clarke. You don't deserve that burden. Tell that to yourself, place the blame where it is supposed to be, and your ghosts will stop haunting you. I killed them. Say it."

"You killed them..."

"I am the monster, not you."

"You are the monster, not me..."

"It is my fault."

"It is your fault..."

With every word, Lexa cleanses Clarke of her sins and muds herself at the same time. Clarke's heart grows lighter where Lexa's grows heavier. She drinks the poison from her veins so that Clarke can breathe again. And surprisingly, it works. It horribly works. Clarke's voice is more and more confident in pouring her pain on Lexa. Until the grounder says something that makes her hesitate.

"You hate me."

Clarke opens her mouth, but she can't bring herself to say it. It doesn't matter that she screamed it moments before. Hating Lexa is against everything that she is. She is already laying her guilt on Lexa: doing the same with her hate feels just too cruel. But Lexa seems to understand what she is struggling with, and she encourages Clarke to give her even more pain.

"You need to say it, otherwise this can't work. You _have_ to hate me, as vehemently as you hated yourself. Do it, Clarke. You said it before, you can do it again..." Her voice is raspy, and it is a spear to Clarke's heart, but she complies nonetheless.

"I hate you..." No words have ever tasted as bitter in her mouth as these.

"More firmly." Lexa swallows thickly.

"I hate you," she repeats, with the same lack of confidence. Lexa's forehead moves against hers, and Clarke knows she is shaking her head.

"You need to convince yourself... Think to all those dead," A lump clogs Clarke's throat. Horrifying images appear behind her closed eyes. It is all in flashes, but everything is bright and vivid, a series of burnt bodies and suffering faces, a pair of steely eyes surrounded by dark paint and blood, a hand on a lever. But it is not her hand that Clarke sees this time. "Think to the children, think to Maya, think to all I took from them, think to them burning and choking and–"

"I HATE YOU!"

It is a strangled cry, filled with tears and pain, and it feels like she spat out all the venom left in her body. She is suddenly panting, overwhelmed by what just happened, while Lexa seems to have stopped breathing. Clarke wishes she could open her eyes and see the emotions on the grounder's face, but she can't bring herself to do it. If she did, it would all be for nothing.

There is a moment when both of them are too worn out to do or say anything. Above the erratic beating of her heart, Clarke hears a snivel. It is impossibly quiet but it resonates in her ears like the explosion of a missile. And then Lexa tears herself down for Clarke again. She sinks further into the pain Clarke knows she is feeling, and comes to her aid.

"Go back to your life. You can do it now... And every time you feel like you are drowning, every time guilt threatens to resurface, think to what you felt now. Place my hand on that lever and pour everything on me. Send every confusing feeling you have for me away, and focus only on your hate, on what I did to deserve it." Lexa is strong, but not even she can stop her voice from breaking a little this time. "And you will be free..."

They fall quiet, too exhausted for anything. Clarke wishes she could think of something to say, but there are no words this time. Lexa's terrifying gift is working, and Clarke feels so sorry for this. She wishes she could tell Lexa that she doesn't have to do this, that she doesn't need her strength, that they can be weak together, but it would all be a lie. Clarke understands what Lexa's words mean. _You will be free_. Lexa wants her to have the freedom. The freedom to be just a girl, the freedom to be innocent. The freedom she lost long ago, or probably never had, Clarke realizes. Even if it means ripping her heart out to do it.

Time disappears as Lexa holds her. Clarke revels in that touch that healed her, and breathes in her scent again, now while she still can. When she hears Lexa inhaling through her teeth, she thinks to how much this is costing to her, to how this broken girl is breaking herself into smaller pieces just to mend Clarke's wounded heart. Clarke opens her mouth for the first time since that desperate scream, but those hideous words will be the last thing Lexa will have heard coming from her mouth. Because before Clarke can speak, Lexa lifts her head and presses her lips against her forehead, leaving a gentle kiss that feels like the scorching sun against her skin. Then Clarke hears her whispering, that language she wishes she knew echoing in her ears, words she doesn't know the meaning of running in her veins.

" _Leida, ai keryon..._ "

And Clarke suddenly is surrounded by cold. The warm touch is gone from her skin and a blow of cool air makes her shudder. Slowly she opens her eyes, and sees what she already knew she would see. Nothing. There is only the darkness of the forest in front of her. Because Lexa is gone.

She disappeared into the night, like she was never there, like she was a spirit come to rescue Clarke's soul, like she was only a vivid dream. But Clarke's knuckles still hurt where they collided with bone and flesh, her waist still tingles with the memory of a gentle hand, and her lips are still warm with Lexa's kisses. No. Lexa was very real. She was a thunder that stirred her broken soul. She was gentle rain that washed over her and cleansed her from her pain and her guilt.

And Clarke is not fine. Her guilt is fading away, a burden placed on shoulders stronger than hers, but she is not the same anymore. Pain is replaced by numbness, and she knows that living will be more tolerable now. Maybe one day she will be ready for a rebirth, but for now there is emptiness in her eyes and coldness in her hands.

She runs the fingers of her maimed hand on her lips. Nothing feels more like Lexa than this: pain and delight, hate and love. Then her hand travels down to stop right above her heart. She thinks to Lexa, to how she bruised her soul and how she healed it, and she realizes that the grounder is right. She can go back to her life. She is free now, she is cowardly free. But that freedom has a cost. Because the girl with sorrow in her emerald eyes took her pain and guilt away, but she also took a piece of her heart. What once was shattered is now recomposed, but Clarke is still not whole.

Her ghosts are not hers anymore, and they won't haunt her again. Accepting Lexa's offer, she turned her into her only ghost. The villain to hate. The guilty. But Clarke stares into the depths of the forest, and she knows that the one piece of her heart that was stolen from her chest will never see her like that. It will always miss her. That piece of her heart will remember the scent of pine needles and fresh leaves and will tremble and ache.

No. Clarke is not broken anymore. But she is not whole. Because a girl with dark hair and eyes that look like the forest stole a part of her heart.

And she will always be happiness that tastes like pain.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone liked it! I know it was a tour the force, but I really hope you considered it worth it :) I'm thinking about writing a sequel, but we'll see. Let me know what you think about this. Any comment, review, constructive criticism is accepted and greatly appreciated!  
> ps: "Leida, ai keryon" = Goodbye, my soul
> 
> Follow me on hedawolf.tumblr.com :)


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